Progressing "Normally"

I’ve been told it’s my turn to write again. I’ve been hiding in the cookbook I’m trying to put together. I’ve amassed hand written recipes from my 93 year old grandmother and my Italian grandmother, my stepfather’s mother as well as other recipes past down to me from the cooks I have known in my now 35 years. I cannot sleep again and so spend the nights doing brain exercises, typing recipes, listening to the house and stirring a plan of sustainability, health and happiness for my family.

I am surrounded by the heavy breath of a windstorm and watch the leaves struggle to get to the ground while the wind rips them from their path. The leaves surrender their resistance and swirl together through the night headed in chaos for another place. Nate is calling for me, the wind surprises his quiet sleep.... I’ll be back.
I have moved him now to the other end of our house. I’ve folded out the bed in the spare room so we can snuggle together through the storm. It won’t be long before his little hands start to search for me in the bed. I must write fast.

The pain in my body is surpassing the fear, fatigue, nausea and misery as my biggest hurdle. I’ve been told to manage it around the clock now. I’ve learned my kidney’s have started their decline. Although still functioning normally they have swollen in response to the enormous stress between my organs and the toxins that flow through my blood, unstrained by my liver and spleen.

I’ve alerted the docs to what appears to be the continuous decline of my condition and was assured that nothing would be done about it again this week. In an almost cheery manner I was advised that the outcome of Thursday’s meeting in response to my recent ultrasound (that reported the enlarged kidneys, 4 possible cancer sites in my liver and shunting amongst other unpleasantries) that everything was progressing as normal. I was supposed to be relieved to find out that there are other patients on the liver transplant list with kidney’s the size of footballs. So, not to worry. I want to ask how the football sized kidney’s are supposed to fit in with the 9lb spleen but decide not to bother. We end by thanking each other and agreeing to speak again if there is no improvement in the pain after tripling my dosage or if I end up going to the hospital.

I get a letter from my insurance company. It’s time to apply for CPP. The Canadian Government Disability benefit for people who are severely disabled. This on the same week that I cross that line from 34 to 35. My birthday. I go through a box of letters I have saved in the closet of my son’s room. He sits in the closet with me as we open them. Some are colourful, some are cute and some even sing. These are cards that were given to us when he was born. The names of so many people who sent a card or attended a baby shower. Over ½ the names are people I worked with. My job was more than a job to me. It was my passion and the people I worked with were a family to me. I miss every day there. I know, people always want what they don’t have but I felt that way when I worked there too. I will fight to walk through those doors again with name badge around my neck and clicking my heels down the hall. Waa hoo! Can’t wait.

I’ve turned over all the leaves and begged on my hands and knees. I’ve laughed, cried, written and said. I’ve listened, I’ve waited, I’ve held my tongue. My family, my husband, my mother and my devoted friends have done and said all we can. I want to surrender now. Trust that my time for life will come and be offered. I pray for the strength to face each day. I pray to rise above the pain, to stay real to myself, to keep my feet planted in truth and life to find a way to fulfill the needs that each day brings. Thank you for your prayers and support both silent and spoken tangible and intangible. I love you.

Michelle